Falling for Grace
by PjoHoOKCTHG
Summary: Phoebe Jackson has grown up knowing nothing except all things Californian, and although not having a perfect life, she's grateful for everything she's been privliged of living. So when her Dad lands a position as swim coach in his old high school and she's forced to move to New York, will she be able to find positives in a new place with new faces? Sequel to Exceptions.
1. Chapter 1

**Falling for Grace**

 **AN: I'm pretty sure I'll be dedicating this entire story to Dude because I'm just so impressed by their interpretation skills. I mean, really, you had me sitting there staring at that one review half in shock and half laughing my ass off because someone actually got the hint. You're the best. And Ethan was in the wedding, he was just in the crowd and not the actual party. I thought it'd be better since Malcolm was with Annabeth for longer than Ethan was. Alrighty you guys, if you haven't read exceptions, I think you can still read this story, but it might be a little confusing in the beggining so I strongly urge you to read the other one if you're a new reader. If you're not... Hey! Well, kinda nervous, don't wanna disappoint my exceptions readers, so yeah. But here's the beggining of the sequel, Falling for Grace- I suggest you don't look into the title as a sign, it's not of importance... yet. But it will be, I'm ShyGal, I have plans already, and I already know some people are gonna be hella freaking pissed when they find them out but you're gonna have to deal with it. Alright, leggo.**

 **Prolouge**

When I was three, I was known as America's golden child. My face was plastered on magazine covers in every city you could think of, and at one point, people even considered naming a clothing brand after me. To sum things up, I was well known. My mom couldn't walk three steps without people asking about me. My name was in everyone's mouth consistently.

When I was five, the craze grew stronger, and fans of my mother would gush about how a toddler could look so perfect. I started remembering things around that age, and that's when I truly met my family. My Aunt Thalia might've been my favorite person in the world after my parents. Even when I was small I could tell they were completely lost in each other. Back then, I promised myself that I would try to find the kind of love they had when I was older.

Aunty Thalia, as I would call her, was the definition of perfect. She would always let me play with her hair- which according to my Mom used to be short- when I was little, and she'd feed me bowls of ice cream for breakfast whenever she was over, to which my mom would shoot a glare and scold her about. Then she'd walk over to me and twirl me around in her arms, call me Guppie- which apparently was what Grandma Sally called Dad when he was little-, and set a kiss on my forehead. Despite Mom's warnings, Aunty Thalia would send me a wink and try to whisper conspiratorially about how she would continue to do what she was doing anyway because hey, rebellion was her trademark.

There are two days, specifically, that I remember from my child hood. They stood out to me like a sore thumb. The first, was the day that I saw Mom truly get mad at Aunty Thalia. Aunty Thalia had accidentally left a stapler near me when I was around seven years old, and I unthinkingly started attempting to eat it, which if you can imagine, ended up horribly wrong. Now I have a hook scar on my lip -it's pretty small- because of the incident, and my whole family laughs about it, but back then, Mom was furious. Aunty Thalia apologized profusely afterwards though, and they made up in no time, but it was a big deal to her. She wanted to protect me with her life. Even though the stapler incident left a scar, people just found that even more adorable on yours truly, and so the hype never stopped.

The second day that I remember, occurred when I was nine. Mom had gotten word from her doctor that she was expecting again, and the whole family was thrilled. Mom made sure not to release it to the public yet though because she wasn't ready. She did well by keeping it under wraps. About a month after the expecting news, I saw Mom sitting in the living room crying. I didn't have to be a genius to know that something was wrong. I tried to comfort her to the best of my ability, but I didn't really fully understand what was happening until I saw Dad packing up a box of baby clothes and storing it away. That was the only time in the entire sixteen years of my life that I had ever seen my beautiful mother cry. And trust me, I'll remember it forever.

Ever since the miscarriage, Mom hasn't really tried for another baby. I know because I found a lot of.. um contraception in my parent's bathroom once. All her fans asked why I was set to be an only child, but only the family knew why. My mother was absolutely heart broken, and even though I knew that, she assured me that I was more than enough. I was her heart and soul, and Dad and I were her world. We were all she needed.

After the miscarriage, Mom made a lot more effort to spend more time with me. She'd take me shopping, cook with me, watch movies, anything you can think of. And back then, I didn't really know why something had changed after the loss of her future baby, but now I do. She was afraid of losing me. That's why I knew that when I went away to college, Mom would cry enough for both her and Dad.

Now that I'm older, even though I won't be able to understand her pain unless it happens to me- which gods I hope it never does-, I get why she stopped trying. She was afraid of being a bad mother. She thought it was her fault. But it really wasn't. The problem was, no one could reassure her of her role as a mother except herself. She had to make the change, and right now, she wasn't.

But Mom was perfect. Even when she aged, she remained beautiful. She was so so caring, and I honestly couldn't wish for someone better to raise me. And she was a wonderful singer. When I was little and would get distressed, she'd sing me one of her more mellow songs until I fell into slumber. From a young age, I was taught to play guitar by her, and when I turned thirteen, she handed over her most precious guitar, Molly, to me. She said that, since I was then considered an official teenager, I deserved something special. According to Dad, I was blessed with my mother's vocal chords, which I was actually pretty grateful for. I loved singing almost as much as Mom did.

Dad was the jokester parent. He would always poke fun at me and make me see the world for what it should be, not what it was. He was the parent that would take you on a roller coaster behind the other parent's back, and I absolutely loved him.

Since both my parents were involved in swimming since they were young, there was no doubt that I'd be forced into that sport whether I liked it or not. Fortunately, I loved it. It was so exhilirating. I cringed at the thought of having to stop swimming like Mom had to when her nerves were shattered. But the thing was, swimming wasn't the only sport I participated in. I also played soccer, which I happened to love a _lot._ I'd love it more if it wasn't for the possible toe injuries you can get if you don't kick the ball right, and I'd love swimming more if it didn't damage my hair the way it did. But hey, gotta sacrifice for what you want, right?

My parents were overbearing, but that's my way of saying that I love my parents a lot, even when they're yelling at me and saying shit they don't mean.

When I was six, I fell in love for the first time. It was with my best friend, Toria, and back then I didn't know it, but now I can't walk three steps without her. It's not like a romantic love, not at all, but I literally wouldn't be able to function without her by my side. The first time we met, it was in pre-k. I'd fallen and scrubbed my knee against the carpet, and everyone laughed. But then, she did a really strange thing. She roared to try to scare the other kids away, and surprisingly, it worked. After that, she wouldn't leave my side, and we became friends. Now, she had guys chasing her tail everywhere she went, and it was actually kind of comical considering the fact that Toria was a lesbian.

My family was Toria's family away from home. She spent so much time at our house, Dad almost considered getting her a bed for the spare room. My parents loved her like crazy, and she was so comfortable with us that it wasn't even remotely funny.

When Toria and I turned ten, her parents died in a car accident, and Toria was left alone. We adopted her soon after, and ever since, we've been closer than ever. It worked out for everyone because Mom got another kid, and Toria got to be with a family she loved- that also loved her back.

Since I lived in California all my life, I didn't really get to see my family from New York, although from what Mom told me, I had plenty of cousins. Aunt Reyna might've been my second favorite aunt ever, although she was definitley more serious than Aunty Thalia. Lenix was pretty awesome too, and her daugther, Kate, was pretty good friends with me.

From the family I knew, Grandma Sally and Grandma Sarah were the sweetest, Lenix and Kate were the most cynical, Aunt Thalia and Aunt Reyna were the most fun, and Grandpa Zeus was the most serious out of all. Uncle Malcolm and Uncle Ethan were lots of fun too, although I didn't see them as much as I wanted to. I knew that Uncle Malcolm and Uncle Ethan absolutely adored Mom. I didn't see Uncle Jason and Aunt Piper that much either, in fact, I hadn't seen them since I was three years old.

So, to sum all that up, I've had a good life growing up. I was never hungry, or mistreated, or went through struggles. I had a good child hood. And yeah, I was grateful for everything I had. My mom was famous, my parents were in a loving relationship, I had a roof over my head, and a cute- but now late- pup named Charlie and now, about sixteen years since I was born, america's obsession with me had finally died down. I was accustomed to everything in California. The beaches being only feet away, the nice warm winters, papparazzi near my family, et cetera, et cetera. But now, things were changing, and in my opinion, they were not for the better.

I remember how it had all started. I was in my rather large room listening to an old song by All Time Low when Dad strolled into my room looking sheepish. I'd stopped the music immediatley and gave him an odd look, but he just sat down on my bed and patted the spot next to him.

"So. Feebs. How do you like California?" I'd glanced at him in a questioning manner, but he wouldn't meet my eyes. That's when I knew something was up.

"Um. I like it a lot?"

"Oh, really? Um, how do you feel about going somewhere else? You know like... New York?" And that was that. Dad had gotten a great position as swim coach in his old high school, and with the salary they were offering, he couldn't pass it up. Mom was in agreement because she talked it over with her agent. We'd stay with Grandma Sarah until we got our own house, which according to Mom wouldn't take that long because we were well equipped when it came to storage money. To me, it wasn't that much of a bad thing to be moving. The high school I went to was pretty small, so Toria and I didn't really talk to many people. And even though I was a little excited to be getting a fresh start, I knew I'd be really home sick when we got to New York.

So now, here I was, getting my bags ready to hop into our shabby van. I straightened out my _Nothing Personal_ All Time Low shirt for the millionth time that morning and analyzed my features in the full length mirror of my large, empty bedroom. I had the perfect blend of both my parents' skin tones, Dad's raven hair- although the curls definitley derived from Mom-, and Mom's eyes. I had Mom's perfectly upturned nose and freckles, but Dad's high cheek bones. And of course, the little hook scar by my lip. I let out an uncertain breath and fixed a baseball cap backwards on my head.

"Feebs. You almost ready? We're getting ready to head out." I whipped around to find Mom leaning against the doorway. Honestly, I hoped and prayed that when I grew older, I'd look like her because she just didn't seem to age at all. Her golden locks were just as shiny and bright as they looked in younger pictures of her, and her eyes were big and portrayed excitement. If she really wanted to, she could pass off as a really mature teen.

"Yeah. Almost. How's Toria doing? Almost ready?" Mom's eyes lit up and she smirked at me quietly.

"Sweetie, Toria's in the car already. We're waiting on you." She walked in and shut the door behind her, coming to stand behind me with her arms crossed. "You okay? I know this is a big move." I shook my head and plastered a smile on my face, cursing myself for making Mom worry about me. I knew she was excited to be going back to New York, and I sure as hell didn't want to be the one to rain on her parade when she'd been putting up with my crap -literally when I was a kid- for the last sixteen years.

"No. I'm fine." She gave me a look that showed she wasn't convinced, but placed a kiss on the side of my head anyway, making me smile at her affection. "Are my guitars all packed up? Molly too?"

"Mmhm, she's all packed up, all of them are."

"And all my sport's gear?"

"Feebs, the only thing not packed up is you." She replied with a laugh, to which I rolled my eyes. She gave me a tight hug and shut her eyes as she set her head against mine. "I love you Buttercup, but we gotta go, alright?"I nodded and let out a breath.

"I love you too, Mom." And with a final look in the mirror on the wall, I turned to descend the stairs, heading to the place I'd spend the next forty three hours in.

I was cursed, though. I got the perfect combination of my parents' physical charecteristics, my dad's laid back manner and sarcasm, and my mom's wit and stubbornness, yet I lacked the one thing I needed the most from both of them. Optimism.

Because honestly, I was thinking about this whole moving thing in the worst way. Like I said, it's not like I would really miss many people from here, but I would definitley miss the place I grew up in, and California itself. And what if New York was bad? What if I screwed myself over somehow? I always looked at things negatitively. I was a pessimist. And now, climbing into the back of the van to sit next to Toria, I really wished I wasn't.

So, I did what any normal person would do. I tried to change my personality in a split second (Which if you haven't figured out, never in a million years works. Oh look, more negativity).I could be optimistic. I could try to look on the bright side, how hard it could it truly be? So I sat down, pushed my overly grown bangs out of my gray eyes, and gave the mirror in the front of the car a look of determination, sliding in earbuds as the van rolled out of the drive way. I mean, could New York really be that bad?

* * *

 **AN: SO? What'd you think? I added in the stapler thing because I really wanted to do it for Jason in my last story, but it completely slipped my mind so I thought I'd incorporate it here. Also, this story will have romance, I promise, and no, before you start guessing, it is not going to be Phoebe and Toria. Not in a million years. Toria is just the best friend/sister. But anyone already have guesses as to who the love interest might possibly be? Bet you can't guess. Alright well, drop me a review because I'd really like to know what you guys think about the prolouge. I have lots of things planned for this story. Also, I update faster if I get more reviews, so reviewing benefits you too. review review review, till next time- ShyGal**


	2. Chapter 2

**Falling for Grace**

 **AN:**

 **Phoebe**

New York could, in fact, be 'that bad'. In reality, it was a lot worse than 'that bad'. It was brutal. Let me start from the ride. Not only was my family moving to New York, but so was my extended family that lived in Cali. Aunty Thalia and Aunt Reyna were coming because Aunty Thalia said why the hell not, and Lenix and Connor were coming because apparently, they wanted to stay near us. Usually, during road trips, I liked to listen to music, or take a nap. Those activities, though, are hard to accomplish when there are not one, but three people, stuffed into the back seat with you.

My lovely aunts and cousins thought it'd be just a great idea if Kate and Rylan- Aunty Thalia and Aunt Reyna's son that came to be with the help of a donor- rode in our car, as if we didn't already feel cramped in the back seats. Now I promise you, I loved Toria and my cousins. They're perfect, and I'd miss them tons if they weren't by my side, but when I want to sleep or listen to music, then I want to do _precisely_ those things.

You know those moments when you're listening to music, and you clearly express you don't want to talk or be bothered, and then some oblivious person just talks to you anyway? Those oblivious people were my darling sister and my cousins, and they would not. Shut. Up. The _entire_ ride- which was almost fifty hours all together, mind you- as soon as I jammed earbuds into my ears, they would just all start blabbing. It was like me putting earbuds in was the universal signal to annoy Phoebe.

After some time, I gave up on music, trying to snuggle into the uncomfortable plastic side of the seat and grab some shut eye, and for half a second, I thought that maybe I'd achieve that goal because they had all shut up for an entire minute. And I was falling into slumber, my hopes up, almost feeling the sleep washing over me.

And then Toria opened her mouth, spilling out, and I quote, "You know, I've always wondered why they call eyebrows, eyebrows." And when she said that, my eyes snapped open, and I groaned so hard internally. Toria's one statement led to a full on discussion on eyebrows, and then I resorted back to headphones as soon as Rylan thought it was a good idea to ask me what my opinion on the topic was.

The whole trip we only stopped twice to get rest, and then we were back on the road in less than six hours. At one point, Dad got so tired that he called it quits and finally asked me to drive for a good amount of hours. Mom protested at first, saying that this was too risky for me as I'd just gotten my license not too long ago, but I'd just given her a defeated look and climbed into the front seat, buckling up and restarting the car. I was more than relieved to be out of the back seat honestly because with my Dad being back there, Toria, Kate, and Rylan finally shut up.

When we finally reached the outskirts of New York, I was as done as I could be, and I was really ready to get out of the van and start unpacking the moving truck. It was just ridiculous. I was dead. _Dead_. I couldn't feel my limbs, everything hurt, and for the first time in my life, I wanted to be away from Toria. The girl wouldn't shut up the entire car ride, I literally thought I'd go deaf. Every time I tried to sleep, she'd find something new to talk about.

Just imagine it. You get into a comfortable position, you can feel yourself drifting away, and then out of the blue, "Wow, what a pretty cloud" and then, "I have fat knees" and then, "Do you think I wear too much make up?" I mean it was horrendous! She just wouldn't close her mouth at all. So to say the least, I was pissed off when we finally stopped to eat at a little plaza in New York city. When we'd gotten there, Mom just handed Toria and I each a twenty and sent us away to go eat with our cousins.

While my family went away to go eat, I had the beyond genious and life saving idea to go to the bathroom because I was literally about to piss on myself. When I entered the bathroom, I sat down in the stall, and that's when I found out that mother nature decided to come by early, which got me even more pissed off because all my hygiene products were out in moving boxes as I wasn't expecting the bitch for another week.

So it commenced. The hygiene machine in the bathroom only accepted coins, and I literally only had a twenty, so I was screwed over. This led to me frantically asking all the women who came and left the bathroom if they had a pad, which led to some of the older women giving me disappointed looks. The thing is, I wasn't being irresponsible, all my products were in the van! Luckily, after ten minutes of asking and getting nothing in return- because some New Yorkers were assholes-, a nice pretty, blonde girl came up to me and slipped me a pad, and oh god, I couldn't have been more grateful. I thanked god that I'd decided to wear black jeans because if I'd worn the white shorts I was debating on wearing before I left, I would've just busted out crying.

Now I love Subway. It's like the best, and back when Mom and Dad were teenagers, it was really popular. But now, more than a decade later, Subways have started to close down. People just don't see the point of them anymore, but it might've been my favorite fast food chain ever. So, naturally, when I stepped inside the little shop, I could feel my spirits lifting. I mean, I might've just had a hellish car ride, had to listen to thoughtless conversations about eyebrows, and gotten humiliated by my bodily functions, but at least there was still Subway. That died down quickly, though.

As I was walking to get in line, I slipped on a puddle of water which caused me to fall backwards and head towards the ground. Luckily, an employee was walking my way when I was falling, and so I was saved before I could hit the ground. After that, I grumbled out of the restaurant with a sandwhich in hand, eating it as soon as we got in the car.

When we finally got out and into the main part of the city, I couldn't help but be a little amazed. The buildings were as beautiful as I'd heard from Mom- who's alternate career if she hadn't gotten discovered would've been something in the architectural department. It was mind bottling to imagine something being so tall and high.

We got to Grandma's in half an hour, and before we were even parked, I'd jumped out of the car and ran to her embrace. Not only was I extremely happy to see her, but I was also just glad that the entire road trip was over and I'd managed not to yell at Toria and my cousins.

So after two days stuck in a car with my cousins, here I was exploring the insides of the place Mom used to call home. I'd tried to call dibs on the music room as the place I'd be sleeping in while we were here, but Mom just laughed at me and told me that too bad so sad because Dad and her were staying there. She had agreed, though, that I could hang around the room for a couple hours while Grams made dinner and Grandma Sally drove herself over.

And where was I now? Just laying on my mother's old bed and messing around with Molly's strings. I really couldn't thank the gods enough that I was lucky enough to get my mom's voice. I hummed out the beggining to one of mom's old songs and resisted the urge to yawn at the same time. A wave of fatigue washed over me, and I could just feel myself slipping away. Then the peace was washed away by a loud flash and a shutter sound. I sprung up from the bed and glared at whoever it was.

"Toria, I swear I'll freaking-" My words stopped themselves as my eyes ran over my all time favorite guy in the world after Dad. He had a waggish smile on his face and a flash camera in hand, his blonde hair shaggy and unkempt, grown out from when he was small. His eyes were a mirror of mine, but I knew he was mocking me inside.

"Sorry Bea, but my name's not Toria-" He started, but I didn't even give him a chance to finish his sentence before I lunged at him.

"Malcolm!" I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck and smiled wide as I felt laughter rumble through his chest. Uncle Malcolm and I were so close it wasn't even funny. If there was one good thing that would be coming out of this move to New York, it was that now, I'd get to see Malcolm more than ever. He absolutely adored me, and I was more than happy to be adored by him.

"Yep, last time I checked, that's the name that's printed on my birth certificate. How've you been, Bea? How was the ride? I heard you stopped at Subway, so it couldn't have been that horrible." I frowned and fixed my baseball cap on my head, biting my lip hard. Malcolm frowned at me and wrapped an arm around my shoulders as he led me out of the room while taking Molly from my hands.

"You're biting your lip. I'm guessing it was as bad as I could imagine it was." He stated matter-of-factly. I sighed and rolled my eyes in his direction. According to everyone who knew me, whenever I was upset or nervous, I'd bite my lip until it was raw. That became my tell to everyone.

"It was pretty miserable, but whatever. It's over now." I said while trying to stop chewing my lip. Malcolm made an unconvinced noise and turned us into the living room where Mom and Dad were sitting back in a loveseat watching TV.

" _Annybeth_ , I think I'm taking your daughter out on a joy ride to lift her spirits, yeah?" Dad tried but failed to hide his smirk from Mom, and Malcolm flashed his amused look like it was a trophy. Mom gave him a pointed look as I sat there confused because apparently I was leaving the house with Uncle Malcolm, but also amused because I knew Mom hated it when he called her that. Apparently, when Malcolm was small, he'd mispronounce Mom's name all the time, and then it just stuck when he became a rebellious teenager.

"Malcolm, I swear if you call me that _one_ more time..."

"Hmph, okay. Someone's in a mood. I'll be taking your daughter hostage now, I'll see you when I see you, let's go now Bea." And then I was ushered out of the door and into Malcolm's truck. I tried to reach for the passenger's door but he stopped me and declared that I'd be driving to the new Marble Slab that had opened up. He'd given me confusing directions, and when we got there, I'd decided that I'd be going to the park across the street instead of Marble Slab because my stomach felt like it was twisting itself in.

"You better not set anything on fire, Bea." He warned, and then he walked into the creamery as I walked across the street with Molly strapped across my back. The breeze of the cool air comforted me, and I managed a small smile. I was lucky enough to have come here when school hadn't started yet, although it was starting in the next week, but at least I had some time to myself before I was sucked into a brand new hell hole.

I stepped onto the concrete path leading to the park and sighed. I could already feel the homesickness setting in. Every step I took felt heavier and heavier. I tried to focus on the positives as I looked around the park. There were still flowers around, and the grass looked so green I wondered if it was on steroids. With all the examination I was doing on the park, I completely forgot the fact that I needed to look forward and so next thing I know, I'm crashing into a complete stranger. I looked up from the spot I'd been staring at and popped my mouth open lightly as I, for the second time that day, ended up almost tumbling to the ground. I was honestly more concerned for my guitar than I was for myself. Just when I was about to hit the ground, strong arms gripped my torso and I was pulled back up on my feet.

"Sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going." I muttered under my breath, not meeting the person I'd bumped into's eyes. I really didn't want more New Yorker hate just because I wasn't watching where I was going. Instead of the yelling I was expecting, I was met with a laugh. I didn't know if the laughter was mocking or not, but if it was, I was about to cuss this person out so hard. I opened my mouth to speak as I looked up and felt the words I was about to sputter out die in my throat.

I've only been speechless once in my life, and that one time was when I thought Mom was passing away when I was twelve. She'd passed out in the kitchen while making dinner and hit her head against the edge of the counter. We found out later that she wasn't in any real danger, she was just extremely dehydrated, and the hit on the head would need stitches. Nevertheless, the entire time she was in the hospital, I wouldn't speak to anyone. I just sat perfectly still and stared straight ahead for what seemed like forever until they let me go see her, and she assured me she was fine.

Other than that, I've always spoken my mind all the time. Whenever I had something to say, I wouldn't clamp my mouth shut like most people, I'd just say whatever I needed to say. When I was small, that tendency would get me into a whole lot of trouble in school because I would openly call little kids the nice version of shithead. I got the impulsiveness from Dad, but the brutal honesty from Mom, but that's not the point. The point is that, aside from that one specific day, I've never been speechless. Until now.

You know how sometimes you go to an art museum, or you see a painting and you get lost in all the visible brush strokes and the perfect blend of the colors? You wonder how so many things could look so absolutely flawless and blend in such a beautiful way, and then you just spend hours beyond hours analyzing every single centimeter of what you're looking at. It just feels like you've strayed away from reality and you're falling into a new world of merging colors, and beauty, and you just want to peel away every layer of what you're staring at to try and decipher it. That's what I felt the moment I met the stranger's eyes.

I've learned that controversy isn't always a bad thing. It has full potential to turn into something of meaning, and it can give you so much insight into society. Controversy can sometimes help you learn, or give you a new outlook on anything and everything you do. Controversy can sometimes be beautiful in it's own way. Toria completely disagreed with me. She's told me one too many times that controversy just leads to hate between people, and just pushes people apart, and that controversy can never, in a million years, be beautiful. As soon as my eyes locked with the stranger's, I knew Toria was completely and utterly wrong.

Their eyes were the definiton of controversy. The colors that made them up disagreed with each other, at first glance seeming hazel but in less than a second deciding that they don't want to be that color and instead want to appear blue, or green, or amber, or any other color you could possibly even imagine. And it was absolutely breath taking. I wanted to stare at them forever and figure out what made them the way they were, to see if they represented something bigger than just ever changing light and color. They made me curious about everything. And that, ladies and gentleman, was the reason that I was, for the second time in my life, absolutely speechless.

"It was my fault, I have a bad habit of crashing into beautiful girls." Someone stated through a laugh, and that's when I realized that there was a face and a body connected to the most beautiful eyes I might ever have the privlige of seeing in my life. I snapped out of my thoughts and ripped my eyes away from the person's eyes, instead deciding to analyze them fully. That's when I met a smirking boy.

I've never actually admitted a guy was attractive since second grade when I told my elementary school crush that I had a huge ass crush on him and that he was really cute, to which he responded by running the fuck away from me as fast as his little feet could carry him. Ever since then, I refused to tell anyone that I thought they were good looking. Now, that's pretty hard to accomplish when there's a really good looking guy in front of you. This guy was something else. Messy dark blonde hair was matted under a gray beanie, and the most adorable dimples I've ever seen in my life rested on his face. His eyes held mischeif, and with one look, I could tell this guy was the type of person who liked to cause trouble.

I realized his comment was directed at me and I met his eyes once more, raising an eyebrow at him. Even though the comment was pretty sly, and the guy was pretty freaking hot, I tried not to judge people just on appearences, and so I couldn't really react. I didn't know what he was talking about though. I looked like a hot mess with bags all under my eyes and messy freckles splattered all over my cheeks. He laughed again after seeing my questioning facial expression.

"Relax, sweetheart, it's just a joke."

"I'd prefer if you wouldn't call me sweetheart." I answered back as I fixed my cap on my head. His smirk deepened, his eyes lighting up with something I couldn't understand.

"And what would you like me to call you then?" I fingered the strap of my guitar and eyed him warily. I mean, the guy could've been a rapist for all I knew, I didn't think I should've been giving my name out to some complete stranger anyway.

"Nothing, since we're never going to see each other again." I answered firmly. This time, he raised an eyebrow at me, and before I even knew what was happening, he grabbed my baseball cap from my head, and then rushed away. "Hey!" I ran after him as he sped away. I grabbed his arm and pulled. "Give me my hat!" I combed through my hair hurriedly as I reached to grab my hat from his hand. He swept it away in a quick motion and held it over his head. "Dude, what the hell do you want?!" He laughed and stopped in his tracks.

"I'd like to know the name of the fair maiden I so foolishly bumped into. Maybe it's fate that I saved you from crashing into a sidewalk, you at least owe me a small, polite conversation." He informed me with a smirk, and I had to bite back a smile because the guy was actually pretty funny. I noticed he held a skateboard near him and without meaning for it to happen, my smile released itself.

"And why exactly should I give it to you? I don't even know you? What if you're a serial killer or something?" He stopped walking abruptly and held up three fingers.

"I promise I'm not a serial killer. Scout's honor."

"I'm almost positive that you being a scout is a load of bullshit." He laughed and let his hand fall by his hip.

"Well, I didn't know my mystery girl cussed. Interesting. You kinda seem like a bad ass to me. I like bad ass girls, you know."

"And I like skater guys." I replied without thinking, to which he raised his eyebrows in amusement. "But you don't see me flirting with complete strangers just because I do." I added, trying to recuperate from the fact that I almost flirted with some guy I didn't know. I cursed myself internally for thinking that this guy looked cute when he smiled.

"But I gave you scout's honor." He tried.

"And I called bullshit on your scout's honor." I answered as I sprung into the step with the guy. We were now walking down the stone pathway of the park, and even though I didn't know him, he had my cap and I wasn't leaving without it.

"Well if you really wanna know if I'm being truthful, you should come over to my house and see for yourself." I gave him a look and crossed my arms over my chest.

"Is this how you pick up all the girls you hook up with?" He gave me a toothy grin and walked backwards as he waved my cap above his head, which caused me to glare at him intensely.

"Hm, maybe. Are you gonna give me your name now? I promise I'll give you your hat back after you do." I huffed and hooked my thumb under my guitar strap. If I gave him my name, I could leave, and I mean... he didn't know what my real name was, so I could give him a fake name and just run.

"Grace." I decided after some time. It wasn't really a lie, as my middle name was, in fact, Grace. He smiled as I stretched my arm out to him as a signal to give me my hat back.

"Sorry, but I didn't give Scout's honor that time, so I'm not giving you back your hat just yet. Walk with me, and maybe I will?" I groaned and stomped my foot against the ground.

"Ugh! Dude, I just want my hat!"

"Grace is a beautiful name by the way, even though I know it's not your real one, but we'll pretend it is. How old are you, Grace?" I bit my lip and continued walking with him as more trees started appearing around us.

"What will it take to give me my hat back?" I asked, exesperated.

"I just want you to walk with me, Grace. So. You like skater guys?" I held back my laughter and played with my hands.

"Yeah, I guess. I mean, it must take serious skill to do what they do." He set his skate board down on the stone pathway and stared at it.

"Well, why don't you try it then?" I gave him a look and stopped in my tracks.

"Are you joking? I'll break every limb on my body." He laughed and set a hand on my shoulder.

"I'll help you. I'll make sure there's not the slightest scratch on your pretty little face." I rolled my eyes at him and stared at the skateboard. I couldn't get over how attractive this guy was. Everytime he smiled, his dimples popped up. He looked at me expectantly. "Well? Jump up." And for some reason I listened to him. I stepped on the skateboard and instantly felt unbalanced.

"I don't know if I like this, I'm going to fall off."

"You have to have a little faith, alright? Here, hold on." He set a hand on my shoulder and the other on my hip. I stiffened under his touch. He chuckled and let out a breath over my shoulder. "Calm down, just trust me."

"I don't even know you! How can I trust you?" He started moving forward, causing the skateboard to roll. I felt like at any moment I would die.

"You do know me, my name's Brett, and sometimes, you just have to give people the benefit of the doubt. Now say you trust me." He started moving forward faster and I cringed.

"Slow down a bit, please."

"Say you trust me."

"Please.

"Just say you trust me."

"Okay, I trust you!" I let out a breath of relief as he slowed down the speed of the board. I met his eyes and tried desperatley not to get lost in them.

"Now was that so bad?" He asked as I stepped off the board. I smiled at the ground and looked away.

"Whatever." I answered as he grabbed his board from the ground.

"So, I'm guessing you play guitar?" I nodded as we walked.

"Cool. I find that kind of impressive, actually." My brown knit as I looked up at him.

"Most girls now have stopped trying to play instruments, you know. They don't think it's worth the time."

"I probably would've been one of those girls if it wasn't for my mom." I answered honestly. "But I'm so glad I learned. It's awesome."

"Guitar is pretty awesome." He said with a smile.

"Do you want me to show you some chords?" I asked without thinking. He smirked and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Warming up to me I see." I gave him a look and sat down under a nearby tree.

"No, just my way of thanking you for saving me from ruining my face back there." He sat down next to me and I grabbed Molly from my back. "Okay, be careful with her please. She's really special to me, alright? My mom passed her down to me." His eyebrow knit.

"Her?"

"Yeah, her name's Molly. If you hurt her I'll hurt you." He laughed, but I wasn't joking in the slightest bit. I could feel my stress levels increasing as he took the guitar in his hands. "Left hand on the spine, right hand in the center." I stiffled my laughter as he grabbed the guitar wrong.

"Making fun of people is a mean thing to do, Grace."

"Well if you held it right, I wouldn't make fun of you." I admitted.

"Well show me then." He practically pleaded. I let out a breath and gripped his left hand with mine, wrapping my right arm around his shoulder and resting my hand on the one in the middle of the guitar.

"Okay ready? Middle finger over on this string, and curve you fingers this way." I explained as I led his fingers to the appopriate places. "Okay, now strum." I ordered as I helped him move his fingers. I smiled as a chord came out perfectly. I'd never get tired of hearing guitar chords, they're always so unique.

"You have a really nice smile." He said, and I snapped out of my thoughts as I turned my head to meet his eyes. He turned out to be way closer than he previously was because we almost ended up bumping noses. My throat closed up and my eyes widened. I was getting captivated by those eyes again, and I could feel myself slipping away from the objective: getting the hat.

"Um, you should be looking at the guitar, not at me." He smiled and shook his head without looking away.

"Can I confess something? I already know how to play guitar, Grace. I just wanted to get closer to you." I bit my lip quietly as he slid my cap back on my head, but now, I had no intention of moving. What was I doing with my life? I'd just met the guy and I was ogling him like there was no tomorrow.

"Really?" I asked stupidly because I knew he was flirting with me, and if he wasn't, then I wasn't a Jackson.

"Mmhm. But thank you for the lesson anyway. I enjoyed holding your hands." There was a beat of stunned silence from my part before he spoke up again. "So, you never told me how old you are?"

"I recently turned seventeen. And you?" He smirked before replying.

"It's my birthday." He paused, and I watched as his face turned into something sincere. "Listen, it's my birthday, and I really only want one thing. Do you think you could spare a kiss for your knight and shining armor?"He asked back, and I instantly blushed. I thought to myself. So maybe I had just met this guy, but if he wanted to rape me or kill me, he would've done it already, right? He seemed like a pretty nice guy, and he was already so close to me. Plus, it's not like I'd ever see him again. And I mean, I'd had a horrible day. Maybe I deserved to have one happy moment in the whole day. Could anything worse than what had already happened, happen? So I made a stupid, rash decision that I would most likely regret later, but I'd ultimately blame on the extra hormones coursing through my body.

"Stop with your pick up lines." I ordered, and then I closed the space between me and a complete stranger who I'd later come to find wasn't a stranger at all.

* * *

 **AN: This is more of a lead up chapter, but I'm kind of proud of it. I have trouble with filling up my chapters with too much dialouge, and I feel like I did good with this. Anyway, leave me a review and let me know how I did! Keep guessing who the love interest in, you'll either officially meet hiim next chapter or the one after that. Love you guys! Review, review, review, till next time- ShyGal**


	3. Chapter 3

**Falling for Grace**

 **AN: AYYYYYYY, I'M BACK. I'm so sorry for not updating in forever. First, I was so busy mapping out later chapters for encounters, second, i was really blocked with this one, and third, I was at debate camp for roughly two weeks so I couldn't update anyway. Also, I know you guys think that the kissing thing was too early, but I swear it's not going to be one fo those stories where the characters fall in love instantly, I swear there's more stuff planned. Anyway, leggo.**

 **Phoebe**

"What do you mean you kissed a random stranger?!" Toria yelled, so loud I thought my ear drums would burst. It'd been about an hour since that... _thing_ happened, and I was refusing to admit to myself that I had let myself kiss some guy I just met on the street.

After the thing that happened, happened, I backed away instantly and ran away, as in I grabbed Molly, fixed my hat on my head, and went on my merry way without giving this guy- I think his name was Brett?- any explanation. I blamed it on the hormones, but maybe I was just crazy and wanted to cause trouble, or maybe I was just an idiot.

After I left that situation, I found Malcolm and practically begged him to take us home, ready to get to a place where there were no skateboarding guys that I could crash into, and no deep pools of eyes that I could get lost in. So now, here I was, sitting in the room Toria and I were going to share until we left Grandma's house, after taking the longest shower of my life and throwing on the first pajamas I could find. I was blowing raspberries and strumming random chords to one of Mom's more recent songs, trying to ignore Toria's disbelief.

"Toria! Can you be any louder? I don't want Mom or Dad to hear you yelling about how I kissed some guy! That'll just make this whole situation even worse." She glanced over at me with her huge honey eyes as she rolled a strand of her long auburn hair in between two fingers.

Toria had never really been good at using an "inside voice". When we were in third grade together, she was trying to help me cheat on a spelling test. I whisper asked her how to spell bridge, and she replied by loudly spelling it out in front of the entire class. That day, we found ourselves in detention, with Toria crying her eyes out, and me being absolutely pissed at her.

"Sorry, but I mean, it's kind of shocking. You're not the type of person to just fling around, and you've never even been with anyone before." I let out a breath and strummed harder, trying to keep my focus on the ceiling instead of on Toria.

"I know. I don't know what happened he just kind of crashed into me and then we were talking and he stole my hat and we just kept talking and I taught him how to play guitar but apparently he already knew how and then we kissed and it was just stupid and I don't understand how it happened it just did." I rambled on, not paying attention to how hard I was strumming until Toria gave me a look and warned me that I was about to break a string.

"Well did you get his name?" She asked curiously, as she flipped herself over on the bed and skimmed through the pages of the latest fashion magazine she could get her hands on. She was always into those types of things, but honestly I couldn't blame her. Toria had that easy going free spirit kind of vibe. She was one of those girls that liked to upcycle and looked to things such as horoscopes and zodiac signs to guide her life.

"Um, I think he said it was Brett." I mumbled quietly. She looked up at me and smirked, silently urging me to continue. I let out a breath ad relented, running my fingers through my still damp hair. "He was a skater guy, and he had this crooked grin and these dimples that I can't even begin to explain. And then his eyes were like a whole other universe, and he had this hair that just looked so soft and I wanted to touch it and he... What?" I asked after I realized that Toria was laughing in my face. I crossed my arms over my chest and pursed my lips.

"I'm sorry Phoebe, but I can't really relate considering the fact that I'm a lesbian. Everything you're saying about this guy is going in one ear and going out the other." She explained while laughing, and I just shook my head at her as her laughter increased. "Aw you look so adorable pouting, just like you used to when you were little! Maybe we can call Mom in here and let her take a picture so we can have a throw back."

"I'm so done with you, Toria, goodnight." And before I shut the lights off, I threw a pillow at her face, making sure it hit her square in the face before I closed my eyes and drowned out her protests.

* * *

The week droned on in a slow rate, with me, Toria, and our cousins hanging around the house most days, while Mom and Dad searched around for houses. Before we knew it, it was Sunday, and school was starting the next day. Mom and Dad had made me and Toria go shopping with them the entire weekend, picking out binders and school bags, and any other thing you could think of. After the very brief back to school shopping, our guest room was stocked up to the ceiling with pens and pencils. Now, it was six in the fucking morning, and I wanted to sleep for another thirty minutes, but Toria was too busy stressing over what she wanted to wear for the first day that she woke me up.

"Should I wear a sun dress?" She asked curiously as she sorted through the clothes in her bright purple suitcase. I yawned and turned to her, peering over my blankets and glaring at her for waking up this early. I mean who _willingly_ woke up this early? It was inhumane, honestly.

"Um... I think-"

"Or maybe a skirt?"

"Well if you-"

"Or I could try these shorts and that cute blue shirt I have?"

"I don't-"

"Yeah, you're right, definitley a romper. Thanks, you honestly have the best ideas when it comes to clothes." She decided, tossing her hair over her shoulder and turning away from me. I stared at her in confusion for a split second more, before I shoved my face into my pillow and groaned. Just as I was about to slip back into sleep, the door bursted open and in came my dad.

"Rise and shine beauty queens, Mom's making breakfast in the kitchen." I groaned at Dad's somehow energized voice and tried to sink deeper into the bed. I heard Dad's deep chuckle and rolled my eyes, not caring that he couldn't see me. "Come on Feebs, your sister's one step ahead, it's time to get up."

"No."

"You need to pack up your soccer and swim gear."

"I'll do it later."

"Mom's making bacon." I jumped up from my bed and shoved Toria out of the way, rushing down the stairs and almost tripping over my own feet. I ran into the kitchen and grabbed the first plate of bacon I could set my hands on before Toria came in behind me thirty seconds later, glaring at me and flipping me off while our parents were turned away.

"Morning Mom." I greeted sweetly, sitting down at the table and setting the plate of bacon in front of me. She glanced at me from over her shoulder before padding over to me and setting a kiss on my forehead.

"Morning Buttercup. Are my girls ready for school?" I scoffed while Toria crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow at me.

"Well I would be, if sister dear wasn't hogging all the bacon."

"Well what can I say, if you had gotten down here first, you would've grabbed it first, beautiful." I responded with my signature sarcastic smile. Dad high fived me and I beamed at Toria as her jaw dropped and she grabbed a slice of toast.

"That's so unfair, you're in soccer, you have a six minute mile! There's no way I would've gotten down here before you!"

"Well then maybe you should've joined soccer a long long time ago. Then you would've gotten the bacon first." I pointed out in the most serious tone I could manage before I tossed her the smallest slice of bacon on the plate. She shook her head at me but caught the slice in her mouth as Mom and Dad laughed silently at us.

"Come on, Feebs, go get dressed, we need to go meet your new principal, and I need to set up the pool for try outs after school today, which you'll be at right after soccer try outs, right?" I mumbled a reply through my full mouth and then gave them a thumbs up as I rushed up the stairs and threw on the first articles of clothing I could find. After looking over myself and straightening out the random band t-shirt I'd thrown on, I fixed my cap on my head and laced up my scuffed up converse, running down the stairs as soon as I decided I looked decent.

"Alright, I'm ready." I shouted as I checked over my sports bag in Grandma's living room. My cleets and my goggles were sitting right next to each other, and really, it was a huge contradiction. I checked to make sure all my soccer gear and clothes were there, and then rechecked for my swimsuit and swim cap. I looked up once Dad clapped me on the back, and Toria said goodbye to Mom as she handed me my guitar case. So, I rushed to the car with my case in one hand and my sports bag in the other.

The ride there was uneventful, and was spent pulling my hair back into a ponytail, fixing my cap backwards on my head- like always-, and listening to Toria gush about how excited she was to be taking cosmetology this year. Once we finally got to school, and I marveled at the beauty of how the building was constructed, we headed inside to find every single person in the hallway wearing the same exact uniform. I panicked instantly, stopped in my tracks, and turned to Dad.

"You didn't tell me we had uniforms.."

"I wasn't aware, we didn't have them when I was in school." He admitted, steering Toria- who was practically blowing steam from her ears because of how mad she was- and I to the principal's office.

We walked into a plush room with walls that were coated in pink paint and an abundance of dolphin related objects. A slim, tall lady with dark eyes and even darker hair sat behind a huge desk that took up over half of the room.

Mrs. Venir, who's name I learned from staring at the plaque on her desk, was a lady who's pink lipstick was too bright for her face, and hair was too flat and plastered on her head. She wore heels that were ridiculously high to compensate for her incredibly short stature, and as if she didn't already have enough attention, she wore an orange suit that made her seem as if she got pulled out straight from the hippie genre.

"Good morning, what can I help you with?" She asked robotically, not once looking up from her computer. Dad cleared his throat and she looked up slowly, raising a sleek eyebrow. "Oh, you're the new gym teacher, yes?"

"Um, yes, but these are my daughters." She gave him a look that you'd read as: _and I care because?_

"Registration is over, we can't afford to accept any more students, our classes are more packed than a can of sardines." Mrs. Venir replied without providing any sort of emotion at all.

"No, my daughters are already registered, we just need to get checked in and get schedules so they can start the day." She looked up once again and gave a stiff nod.

"Names?"

"Phoebe and Toria Jackson." She typed something in her computer and after five seconds, the printer buzzed to life, producing two pieces of paper. She snatched the papers from the printer bottom and handed each of us one. Toria and I traded schedules after finding the opposite names on the page we were holding. She dug in her desk and produced two lanyards, two school guides, and one lanyard holding a key, which she promptly handed to my dad while shoving the other objects in our direction.

"That's your key to the gym, the swim center, and the storage units where we keep equipment. Those are your guides and lanyards for ID'S. We'll get you uniforms, and after we get those, we'll print the ID'S." And then she walked off, and I guess she wanted us to follow her because she paused at the door and looked back at us. Toria and I rushed off, looking back at Dad with helpless faces. I bit the inside of my cheek and let out a breath. I already had a bad feeling about Goode. Mrs. Venir led us to a small dusty room, unlocked the door, glanced at us briefly, and then handed us each a black clothing bag.

"Shoe size?"

"We're both an eight." Toria answered as I stood there not wanting to assess the situation. She shoved a shoe box at each of us and looked us up and down, narrowing her eyes at me.

"Hats or head coverings of any type are not accepted, shirts with logos, jeans, and especially those disgustingly scruffed up shoes, are prohibited. This will be the uniform you wear everyday, we'll send you home with four more of the same so you'll have one for everyday of the week. You're responsible for taking care of these uniforms, and wearing them to school everyday, all the time. Aliese! Aliese, come show these girls the bathroom so they can change! Aliese!"

As we stood there with stunned faces, a girl with the blondest blonde hair you could have before it was considered white ran through the door wearing the supposed school uniform. Her eyes were deep and dark, clashing with her fair complexion and incredibly light hair.

"Yes?" The girl asked through pants, and a pang of sympathy ran through me.

"Go show these girls the bathroom so they can get in dresscode." No please or thank you, just orders that had to be followed. Aliese nodded curtly, glanced at us briefly, and then motioned for us to follow her. As we were walking out, Toria leaned over to me and whispered, she's hot, in my ear, and I turned to her and gave her a pointed look. She laughed silently as we reached a maroon door which she pushed open quietly.

"Okay, so is this lady as horrible as she seems?" I blurted out as soon as I got in a stall and opened the clothing bag. I cringed at the sight and let out a breath as I slipped the white collared shirt over my head.

"No." Aliese answered quietly, and I let out a breath. "She's way worse." Nope, nope, forget about that, all the breath was sucked out of my body. I groaned as I slipped on the skirt and opened the shoe box.

"Oh hell no. I refuse. I'd rather unenroll from this school than wear these death traps." I answered, shuffling out of the stall with the shoe box in hand. I wrinkled my nose as I stared at the gray and maroon plad skirt that brushed against my knees and fixed the collar of my shirt.

"You have to wear them, they're required." Aliese pointed out sounding more confident than before. I turned to find Toria clad in the same outfit, slipping the maroon knee socks onto her feet. After ten minutes of arguing with Toria, I slipped the socks on and stepped into the black strapped school heels provided by this already huge ass hell hole we moved to New York for.

Now let me be absolutely clear. I never wore heels. I wore my converse so much, I practically lived in them. The first and last time I wore heels, it was because I was the flower girl at Cousin Travis and Cousin Katie's wedding, and that was when I was seven. I refused to ever wear heels again after that day.

"I look like a freaking barbie doll, why the hell do we have to wear this?" I almost screamed as Toria braided her hair back calmly, staring into the mirror with determination.

"Mrs. Venir says it's to keep us safe." Aliese answered quietly as Toria tied the end of her braid.

"Well you certainly make this outfit work." Toria muttered under her breath, and for the second time that day, I shot her a look. Aliese looked up confused and Toria smiled sweetly. I rolled my eyes and stuffed my cap in my backpack, running a hand through my hair. I headed for the door, but before I could even place a hand on it, Aliese stopped me, and in the quietest voice I'd ever heard, informed me that I still wasn't in dresscode.

"How am I not in dresscode?" She scratched the back of her neck and twirled a small curled strand of hair with her finger.

"Mrs. Venir requires all females to pull their hair back, no one's hair is allowed to be down." I stared at her like she was insane and she nodded at me as if trying to assure me that no, she was in fact not shitting with me. I angrily pulled my hair up and tied my ponytail, my bangs falling into my eyes in the process.

"This is such bullshit." I muttered angrily, grabbing my bags and pushing my way out the door before I could get a response from either girl. I marched back to the room with Mrs. Venir and bursted through the door. She looked up at me and clapped.

"Oh, so much better. Now sit, let's take your ID picture." I opened my mouth to protest but she sat me down in the chair and I turned my head to the side and plastered on a smile as she snapped the picture. As soon as I saw the ID printing, I let my face fall and stood up, grabbing the ID and attaching it to my lanyard."Now, remember to always be in dresscode. A full set of dresscode do's and don'ts is listed in the school guide. You're all set to go to class." I grabbed my bags once again and leaned against the outside wall of the room as Toria shuffled inside to take her picture. Aliese stood next to me awkwardly before offering me a hand.

"I'm Aliese, but you probably already knew that." I took her hand and shook it quietly.

"I'm Phoebe, but I'm sure once you get a look at me you'll make the connection." I responded, and she stared at me for two seconds before her eyes widened.

"Your parents are Annabeth Chase and Percy Jackson! I thought you guys lived in California, what gives?"

"Yup, that's me. Dad got a great job offer here, so we packed up and left. Mom said she could still get good publicity from here, so they didn't see a reason to not move."

"That sounds tough." She answered as Toria errupted from the room with her ID.

"Not really, we didn't really have anyone to miss in Cali. The only thing tough is this damn school." I answered as I pulled out my schedule. Aliese nodded and glanced at Toria.

"So if you're Phoebe, you must be Toria, right?" Toria nodded confused as we started walking down the hall and compared schedules.

"How do you know that?"

"Because when you got adopted, you were on the news and you were all the rave." And I can assure you there were rare times when sister dear blushed, and apparently this was one of them for some unknown reason.

"Um, what's your first class?" She asked no one in particular, so I looked at Aliese, signaling her to go first.

"Chem with Mrs. Higgins." Aliese said, and Toria informed us both she had that same class with her. Well damn, guess I was screwed since I had Stats with some teacher named Mr. Roth. We went our seperate ways and I tried to find my way to room A214. After fifteen minutes, I found the room and knocked on the door eyeing my schedule with curiosity. A full minute passed until the door was opened by a girl with a long purple streak running down her brown hair. She looked me up and down before shooting me a smile and holding the door open for me, eyeing my guitar case for a split second longer.

As soon as I stepped in the room I had a wave of nausea hit me. The teacher stopped projectile typing notes on the board long enough to look me up and down, stopping to stare me straight in the eyes with a questioning look. I don't know what he was looking for, but he was making me feel really fucking uncomfortable and I didn't know why. I watched as he hit a button on his computer and the lights in the room flashed on. He walked over to me slowly, adjusting his tie and not ripping his eyes away from mine.

"You are?"

"Um, new student." I shoved my schedule at him and swallowed quietly, messing with the strap of my sports bag. He looked over my schedule quietly and handed it back to me.

"You're a Jackson?" He whispered. The question caught me off guard, and I didn't exactly know why he was asking, but nevertheless I nodded as a look flashed across his face before he turned to the class. "Class this is Phoebe, new student, make her feel welcome, alright?" He turned to me. "You'll be sitting in front of Mrs. Jaylen." He informed, pointing to the girl with the purple streak in her hair. She raised an eyebrow at me and I already knew this girl and I were gonna get along by the mischevous smile she threw my way. Unfortunately though, I couldn't enjoy the fact that I was going to sit in front of someone who seemed chill because of the person sitting across from me.

The guy had been eyeing me since I walked in, and now that I got a good look at him, I could see why. I remembered those eyes, so deep and ever changing. Somehow, him being in his uniform with his tie loosely done and his shirt sleeves rolled up made him look even more troublesome. It was almost impossible for me to sit down without looking at him, but I managed to build a wall between us with my guitar case, backpack, and sports bag.

Mr. Roth droned on into a conversation that I really didn't care about because of the fact that I had taken stats the year before and was only taking it this year for an easy grade. Through the whole class, Brett never ripped his eyes away from me, so much that at one point, the girl behind me passed me a note that read: _Seems like Mixed Eyes over there's really trying to get your attention, Gray Eyes- Kathryn, local smart ass and sarcasm expert_. I wanted out, and right then. Problem was, I couldn't efficiently count down till the end of the class because I didn't know when the class ended.

So, to sum up my first week in New York, I was living with my grandma, kissed some guy who I was currently sitting next to, and had my entire personality stripped away when I had to change into a school uniform that I wasn't told I'd have to wear. I guess this was the first sign that optimism really wasn't for me.

* * *

 **AN: I know I know, not that great, but it was about time I uploaded, I promise next chapter will be better. Also, I've started pinpoints in this chapter towards plot points in the future. Lemme know your guesses. Alright, review for me please! Till next time- ShyGal**


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